translation

Thus the soul’s primordial appetite for truth in itself, it’s orientation toward a horizon of perfect understanding and immediacy, has here only shadows–though often golden shadows–to feed upon. I suppose that is why perhaps the loveliest and most absorbing promise in Paul’s letters is that one day we will not only peer into a glass, darkly, but see face to face: The original author, having translated himself into a human idiom, will translate us into the idiom of the divine, without loss, confusion, or separation; and the restless human desire always to understand more (of which the imperfect art of translation is one small manifestation) will at last understand even as we are understood.
(David Bently Hart in the August/September 2012 First Things)